


Too Much Time

by crutchie_394



Category: Tuck Everlasting - Miller/Tysen/Shear & Federle
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Hurt, Pre-Canon, let me tell ya, we're in it for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crutchie_394/pseuds/crutchie_394
Summary: Maybe he was being irrational. Maybe he should have released his firm grip, growing tighter as Jesse wriggled against it. But he had to blame somebody.~~~The events that took place after Rose and Thomas left.





	1. All Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> My readers: Please, update The Spider's Return and stop being lazy, we're begging -
> 
> Me: Hmmm, interesting ideas, all. NAH. Let's do a one shot of brotherly angst for an entirely different fandom!
> 
> I PROMISE the next thing I post will be the next chapter for the Spider's Return. I'm just lazy. This is my first time writing for Tuck Everlasting (based on the musical), so sorry if it's trash.

They were gone. They were both gone. Shelves empty, beds made, closets bare. There was no clattering and rustling as Rose bustled around making breakfast in the kitchen. There were no groans from the mattress as Thomas jumped on top, shaking Miles out of his slumber and dragging him up for the day. Just the sound of the grandfather clock ticking away, even though time should have stopped — the world should not have still been turning.

Sitting at the table with his head in his hands, eyes raw with uninvited tears, Miles felt so many things as the minutes inched by. Devastation. Horror. Shock. Anger — so much anger. So much that it was blackening his vision and making his head spin like the hands on the clock. 

It was fueling him. It was filling up inside of him like a pot left unstirred, and it was forcing him to his feet. He was pulling his shoes on before he could gain control of himself, and even then he was stomping outside into the fresh, clean air that did nothing to bring the calm he knew he needed. The boom of the door slamming shut behind him was satisfying.

He made the familiar trek without thinking. But, even driven by his grief, he wasn’t surprised to find himself standing in front of his parents’ cabin. He just pulled out his key, twisted it into the lock, and shoved the door open.

“Woah, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Jesse called in greeting over the mountain of pancakes stacked on his plate. Just seeing his brother’s smug face made Miles clench his fists and stomp towards him. “At least wait until later in the morning to commit murder.”

Miles grabbed the back of Jesse’s shirt, hauling him out of his chair and pushing him into the wall, using his towering height to his advantage. Holding his brother’s shoulders, he got some satisfaction as that arrogant smirk in front of him faded.

“Miles, what are you —”

“It’s your fault,” Miles said, digging Jesse’s back into the wall. “They left. Rose took Thomas with her. They’re gone and they’re never coming back, and it’s all your fault!”

Maybe he was being irrational. Maybe he should have released his firm grip, growing tighter as Jesse wriggled against it. But he had to blame somebody. He refused to admit the spring, which they had all been so sure was the cause of this whole mess, had thrown away his whole life. So, instead of apologizing and collapsing into the nearest chair, he spat out the words that, just in that split second of anger, he meant with all his heart.

“I wish you were still dead!” he seethed. “I wish that tree killed you! I wish you hadn’t sat up, because if you had just stayed dead like you deserved, my life would be perfect! My family would still be here and I would never have to see your face again!”

Hands grasped him from behind. They dragged him away and whirled him around before he could truly take in Jesse’s tear-brimmed glower, and he met his father’s hard eyes. Standing a few feet behind, he could see his mother, her hands covering her mouth as tears trickled down her cheeks.

Miles didn’t say anything to his father. He felt a sharp pang of guilt whenever he risked a glance at his mother, but, rather than standing there in the tense silence and listening to Jesse’s haggard breaths as he made no move to stand away from the wall, he shouldered past his father and stalked out the door, hands even more white-knuckled than they had been when he arrived.

He knew he couldn’t go back to the farmhouse. It would hurt a thousand times more the second time seeing Thomas’ stark room. So he found himself wandering through the woods, scuffing his toes in the dirt and gazing up at the trees, shoulders heaving with adrenaline as he collected his thoughts.

He hadn’t meant it. Not at all. In fact, the only thing that would have hurt just as much as his son and wife leaving without a word would be seeing his little brother laying in the dirt, chest still and head caked in blood, eyes refusing to open no matter how many times they were begged to.

Miles had been angry. So, so angry. He still was, and the guilt from the words that had spewed from his mouth and the fury peppering his brain was enough to make his head pound.

He could have gone back to the cabin. To apologize, to comfort his mother and embrace Jesse, assure him he hadn’t meant a word. But what would that do? Apparently, all his presence did was start problems and drive people away.

When the sun started to dip behind the trees, his thoughts distracting him as the afternoon came and went, he trudged back down the path to their — his farmhouse.

The creak of the door greeted him, rather than Thomas’ gleeful rambling and Rose’s warm smile. He sighed and sat down on the cushioned chair in the sitting room. He rubbed a fist at his eyes. His cheeks were wet again.

He eased himself down so he was slouching in the chair, not bothering to kick off his shoes or shrug off his jacket. Everything felt muted. Dutiful, like it was a chore to shut his eyes.

Despite all his time on the Earth, it had passed all too quickly. And he had taken it for granted. And the ticking of the grandfather, replacing his beautiful wife’s light snores, was all too glad to remind him.


	2. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles comes back to apologize.

Miles woke up to the sun rudely cutting into his sleep by shining over the back of the chair. His mind was fuzzy, as if purposely blocking out whatever had happened the night before, but the sudden ache in his chest and the sore crick in his back from sleeping in the sitting room brought him up to speed much too fast for his liking.

He got himself up quickly, skipping breakfast with the fear of being unable to stomach even a single bite of food. The hurt was bad enough, but the guilt from his words as the previous day’s events caught up to his depressed, sleep-muddled mind would break him any second. Which is why, upon dragging the door open, he found himself on the path to his parents’ cabin for the second time; with a much different goal in mind for his visit. Jesse could already be gone, — he did that sometimes, there one minute and gone the next — he could have already hopped the next train, and his pace down the road picked up as the thought settled in his brain.

This time, instead of storming in looking like he could stop the Devil himself in his tracks, Miles knocked, hesitating before his fist made contact. He stuffed his thumbs in his pockets and squirmed as he waited. Just as he raised his hand to try again, it dropped limply at his side as his father opened the door and stared him down.

Miles cleared his throat. “I need to talk to Jesse. Is he here?”  
  
“He’s here,” his father said gruffly. He slowly moved to the side so Miles could sidle in. He clapped Miles on the shoulder, offering him a grimace that could have been an attempt at a rough smile. “It’s been hard, son. We’re all adjusting to the spring, and with Rose and Thomas leaving… no one blames you. But there’s no reason to blame Jesse either. Do you understand?”

Miles nodded tersely, avoiding the appraising gaze like a reprimanded child. “I shouldn’t have —”  
  
“I’m not the one that needs to hear it. Why don’t you go find someone who does?”  
  
He nodded again and moved towards the bedrooms as his father slipped out, probably off to go fishing. As he passed the kitchen, he spotted his mother mimicking his pose from earlier that morning, her head in his hands at the table, the ever-present music box playing its familiar tune beside her.  
  
“Ma?” he said, drawing up a chair beside her and leaning down to prop his elbows on his knees. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Oh, Miles,” she said, startling as his voice interrupted the soft music. She clamped the lid down on the box, looking at him with watering eyes. “I know it’s hard. Thomas and Rose… you never should have had to be without them. But please tell me you didn’t mean those things yesterday. Please, Miles.”  
  
He sighed, taking her hand and squeezing it. “No, Ma. Of course not. I was just… I couldn’t think and the first thing that came to mind was to blame somebody for what happened. But I swear I didn’t mean it.”  
  
His mother let out a sad laugh, wiping away her tears and rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m glad. I don’t think I could stand it if my boys drifted apart like that.”  
  
“I know, Ma.” He rose to his feet as she collected herself. “Is he in his room?”  
  
“He’s been there since you left.”

As eager as Miles was to get it over with, his hesitation in front of Jesse’s door was infinite. Finally, though, sucking up his pride, he rapped sharply. No answer. So, sighing, Miles pushed it open and entered the room himself. Sure enough, Jesse was there, but he was curled up on the small bed shoved in the corner, facing the wall, his back turned towards the door.

"Uh... Jesse," Miles said awkwardly, sitting down on the bed. “Hey.”  
  
Jesse said nothing.  
  
“Look, Jesse,” he said, coughing into his fist. “I didn’t mean it. Come out. You’re worrying Ma.”

Jesse was still quiet, so different from his usual boisterous, loud personality. Not so much as a rustle of the quilt underneath him this time around, and Miles would have thought he was asleep if not for his shallow breaths.

“Jesse, I didn’t mean it. You’re fine. Really.”  
  
“Go away, Miles,” Jesse muttered after another long beat of silence. Miles had to strain to hear his words, muffled by a hoarse voice. “You can pretend I’m dead if you aren’t here.”  
  
That was enough of that. Taking matters into his own hands, Miles bent over to wrap his arms around his brother’s chest, yanking him into a sitting position.  
  
“Let me go,” Jesse snapped, pulling himself out of the hold. His heart wasn’t in it, though, so Miles replaced his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length with an intense gaze.  
  
“For the love of God, Jesse,” he said, shaking him a little. “I don’t want you dead. You have to know that. I was angry, and I was…” he faltered, meeting his brother’s eyes, rimmed with red from obvious tears that had stubbornly fallen. “I was a jerk. And I couldn’t believe they were gone. Thomas and Rose,” he elaborated. “Jesse, come on. You’re annoying and you do stupid things. But you’re my brother. I meant it in that second when I wasn’t thinking, sure, but I’m glad that tree didn’t — you know, kill you.”  
  
Jesse snorted, despite the tension hanging in the air, as Miles squeezed his shoulders. “You know, I would stop falling out of trees if I could.”  
  
Miles scoffed and, after some hesitation, pulled him closer, enveloping him in an awkward hug. “Maybe if you stopped being so stupid sometimes you could manage that.”  
  
Jesse stiffened in the embrace for a second, probably surprised by how uncharacteristic it was, but he returned it slowly nevertheless. “Wow, I had no idea you were such a sap,” he teased.

Miles rolled his eyes and shuffled away, drawing his arms back to his sides. “In that case, forget about everything I just said.”  
  
Jesse pouted. “You’re supposed to love your little brother, Miles. What would Ma say?”  
  
The heart ache was still there, even as he jabbed at Jesse and cracked a smile for the first time since he had woken up alone, much to Jesse’s delight. It would still hurt then, later, and for years after. It wouldn’t always be easy. Somehow, though, sitting in the small room on his brother’s bed, tracing the homeade quilt and breathing in the whatever storm his mother was cooking up in the kitchen, everything was just a little bit better, at least for the time being. That was enough for him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! This was my first attempt at a Tuck fic, so let me know if you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably continue this, if anyone's wondering. I got a request for a part 2 on my Tumblr, so I'm leaving it as unfinished. 
> 
> This is also posted on my Tumblr, @well-the-kids-do-too


End file.
